Where Storms brew and Soldiers Sleep
by Sci F.I. Warper
Summary: When Danny gets mugged and disappears, it's up to the rest of the team to find him before it's to late. Not your average Danny get's kidnapped story. Reviews always appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

A.N.: Hello to all of you. This will be my second solo trek into the universe of CSI: NY and my first Danny-centric story (Grins happily). So anyway, just so you know, I am a first timer, so be gentle. No flames, though any CONSTRUCTIVE Criticism will not go unappreciated. I really want you guys to enjoy this story. So yeah, here goes...

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in CSI: NY...though, if anyone ever figures out a way to get Danny and Flack tied down in their basement, let me know! (grins evily).

* * *

Danny Messer walked down the steps of the precinct and turned left to head home. His emotions bounced between excitement, relief, revulsion, and even a little sadness as he walked. The case he and Sheldon had been working on had been really difficult. It had started as a simple rape case, but when the victim had turned up at the lab, it had become something a little more. 

Danny shoved the memory of the nearly histerical young woman demanding that evidence be found to catch her rapist while she clung to him nearly passing out. That had not been a pleasant day. However, keeping true to his word, Danny had found the evidence to nail the bastard and had enjoyed as Don put the cuffs on him right in the interrogation room.Of course, the guy kept on protesting his innocence despite the evidence stacked against.

Shivering slightly, Danny pulled his coat closer around. The weather was changing fast and pretty soon he'd have to get up even early then he did already just to get to work. A forceful wind hit him in the back as he passed a bar near the precinct. The one he and Flack had often stopped at after a difficult case. For a moment, he was tempted to duck inside just to get away from the cold and memories. Deciding not to, however, he continued on his way.

Crossing the street, he turned at the corner and continued down Twelth Street. His breath began to fog as it became colder. Danny glanced around, allowing a feeling of unease creep in. The street was still pretty crowded for the night, but most people were beginning to duck into buildings or empty taxis as they passed by. Danny glanced behind him. No one was there.

Looking back to where he was going, he had about ten seconds to close his eyes before his face met ice cold concrete.

"Oof," the passage of air escaped as he fell. Groaning, he looked up and to his side to see a young woman flat on her butt with her legs pinned underneath him.

"What the hell do you think your doing?" exclaimed Danny, annoyed and soar.

The woman looked at him blankly as he stood up. She didn't reply.

"Hey, you, on the ground, what do ya think your doing sitting there?" said Danny, glaring down at her. He could tell by the way she was dressed, a patch-work of hoodies, sweats, gloves, and two oversized shoes, that she was more then likely homeless.

The woman looked up at him then back at her feet.

"Timbers fall," she muttered, her eyes moving back and forth as though surveying a gruesome scene, "Trees rise. Everything's like it was before. But it can't be...it can't."

Her eyes returned to Danny's, filled with tears now. Danny looked down on her inside.

"Come on," he said, offering his hand, "Let me help you up."

The woman allowed Danny to grasp her arms, but only till she rose half-way. Then, with suprising force, she pushed him away, catching herself on a banister as she fell. Casting a fearful look at him, she turned and fled down the street, leaving Danny to just stare at her retreating back.

"You're welcome!" the New Yorker yelled out at her, before mumbling "Damn crazy."

His good deeds for the day just about used up, Danny continued on his way. He was almost to his apartment when he felt a large body collide into his. Forcefully, said body threw Danny into an awaiting alley and then against the wall.

"Don't move," he said, and Danny felt the unmistakable touch of a cold barrel next to his head. He could feel a broad hand search along his pockets.

"Hey, watch it!" Danny called as the hand moved farther down.

"Shut up!" rasped the gun-holder. Grabbing Danny's shoulder, he whirled him around against the wall.

The attacker was young, no older then twenty-five at the most, with a nine-milimeter. A grey hood covered his hair, though by his goatee showed him to be blond. His eyes were deep green, and very angry.

"Give me your money," he ordered, shoving the gun into Danny's face.

"Okay, okay, easy," said Danny, his tone calm and cool, "I'm pulling out my wallet, alright?"

Slowly, he pulled his hand from his pocket. The robber snatched it out of his hand, quickly pulling the cash out of it.

"Now take your coat off," he demanded.

"Excuse me?" Danny shot him a strange look.

"I said, take your coat off!"

"Alright, alright..." Danny obeyed, half torn between throwing it in the guy's face or handing it over quietly.

"Hand it over."

Quietly it was, then. Danny handed over the coat, shivering from the shock of the cold.

"You know, there's other ways of getting..." he started.

"Did I not tell you to shut up!" screamed the man, "Turn around!"

Again, Danny found himself face to face with the wall.

"Here's something to remember me by," breathed the man from right behind him.

Before Danny could make the brilliant comeback he had all set, a severe pain exploded along his head. Light exploded in his vision as he staggered against the wall and fell. As darkness began to flood his line of sight, he could make out his attacker hurrying down the alley. The last thing he saw was a pair of oversized shoes.


	2. Chapter 2

Don Flack sat at the bar paying more attention to his cell phone then the beer next to him. At the moment, he was debating whether or not to call Danny and invite him out for a celebratory drink. The CSI had bolted out of the precinct so fast, waiting only long enough to see the suspect slapped in handcuffs, before Flack could talk to him.

Not to mention the fact that Danny's reaction to the case bothered him. Flack had come to the conclusion a long time ago that he prefered being called to a homicide rather then anything else, and especially a rape. At least with a homicide, you didn't have the victim in your face begging for justice. It made any nightmares that came easier to deal with. Of course, the girl showing up at the lab had made it worse for Danny. Flack could still see the young woman, no older then twenty really, collapsed in Danny's arms, exhausted and still begging him to put away her rapist. The look in Danny's eyes when he momentarily glanced up at Flack had told Flack all he needed to know.

Flack took a swig of his beer. He really hated cases like that.

"You busy?" a familiar voice called from behind Flack.

Flack turned to see Sheldon, dressed in a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and a heavy coat standing behind him.

"Hawkes? What are you doing here?" said Flack, suprised to see the CSI in this particular bar of all places. He had never thought of Sheldon as much of a drinker before.

"Just passing through," said Sheldon, "Thought I'd duck in from the cold."

"Yeah, it is miserable out there," agreed Flack, "My cat's gonna be pissed."

"She doesn't like the cold?"

"Yeah, and she tends to take her agression out at my feet while I'm asleep."

Hawkes laughed.

"Hey, you want a drink?" asked Don.

"Oh, no, if you're busy..." started Sheldon, not wanting to intrude on the Detective's off-work hours.

"Not a problem," replied Don, cutting him off, "Come on, I'll buy you around. Call it a celebration for a slam-dunk case."

"Okay," said Sheldon, "If you insist."

"I do," replied Don, waving to get the bartender's attention. Casually he slipped his cell phone in his pocket.

_Messer's a big boy,_ he though to himself, _He can handle himself.

* * *

He wasn't sure what woke him up first. The shivering, the humming, or the sanity breaking pain pounding his brain. Whatever it was, Danny forced himself to open his eyes. A brilliant flash of light exploded in his eyes as the back of his head resisted even that smal motion. Slamming his eyes shut, he felt his breath hitch._

_Okay,_ he thought to himself, waiting for the pain to recede, _Not exactly the smartest move in the world._

Even though he couldn't see, he was pretty sure he was on the ground and most likely with a concussion. Catiously, he stretched out his hand, feeling cloth. Stretching out a little further, he felt where the cloth ended and gravel began.

_What the heck? Where am I?_ he thought, making sure he had felt correctly. He could easily run his hand along the edge of a thin blanket. As he ran his hand along the edge, he felt his hand collide with something warm. Something that immediately pulled away.

_Jesus!_ he thought, pulling back as well, _Alright, Messer, open your eyes!_

Cautiously this time, Danny slowly cracked open one eye. Thinking the lack of pain to be a good sign, he slowly opened the other. He could see that he was indeed on a make-shift bed of blankets, and in what looked like a self-converted shelter in an abandoned subway tunnel. Looking around, he could also make out a fuzzy outline a few feet away from him. Breathing a sigh of relief that the figure was to big to be a rat, he squinted trying to figure out what, or rather, who it was.

"Hey, you," he called out to the figure, "Who are you?Where are we?"

The figure didn't reply or even move. The only change was the stop of the humming. A minute passed. Danny felt a chill creep along his back, though he couldn't figure out if it was the cold or building fear. The figure remained stationary the entire time, caught in the perfect distance so that Danny couldn't make out his or her face. Then, suddenly the figure moved. Caught by suprise, Danny couldn't tell where they had gone until he saw his glasses come down on his face. Now able to see, he looked up.

"You!" he exclaimed in suprise!


	3. Chapter 3

"Welcome back," replied the face smiling above him. It was the homeless woman he had run into before he had been mugged.

_She must have seen the whole thing,_ a stray thought crossed Danny's mind.

"Back to where?" he responded, unable to bit back the retort, but regretting it the minute he said it.

The warm smile on the woman's face crumpled immediately. Tears formed in her rich brown eyes and she pushed up from her leaned over position. With the grace of dancer, she was across the room. With his glasses restored, Danny could see her perfectly huddled in the corner.

"Hey, wait," he called, sitting up, "Ah!"

The move cost him. He intook a hissing breath, grinding his teeth against the pain. Raising his hand to his head, he felt the flakes of dried blood and a deep gash in the back of his head.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman recoil, "Uh, forget I said that."

"Can't forget," replied the woman, "Must log e-everything. All details. Important to success of mission," she paused to look over at Danny, "You were hurt."

"Er, yeah," replied Danny, trying his hardest not to be creeped out. He wished now that he had put his phone in his pants pocket instead of his coat pocket. At least then he could have called for help. A burning wave of bile began to rise up his throat, but he forced it down.

_This ain't good, Messer, _he thought to himself, _You need help._

The homeless woman was still watching him. From her little corner, she had begun swaying and humming. Regretably, Danny knew she was his one shot for survival.

"Hey," he called out again, "You, what's your name?"

The woman paused. Danny thought like she looked as though she were in deep thought.

Finally, she answered, "Where storms brew, and soldiers sleep...there the old ones, their watches keep. Through the onslaught of the years...to keep the secrets, in death and tears."

"O-kay," replied Danny, "You got away to shorten that a little, maybe?"

The woman looked at him as though he were from another world.

"Nevermind," said Danny, "Listen, I need to get to a hospital. Do you..."

"No!" cried the woman, "No, no, no, no...Stay at your post...you can't let them win...stay at your post!"

Her voice grew shrill as she lept to her feet. Danny could only watch bewildered as she began to pace around the room muttering more and more loudly the rhym she had said before.

"Easy," he said, moving towards her, "Just re-"

He stopped as the dizziness hit. He could feel himself fall but was unable to stop it. As the unconciousness wound it's way around him, he felt someone lift up his head and heard a voice whisper, "Lucinda."


	4. Chapter 4

"Stella! Stella, wait!" called Lindsey as she saw the older CSI turning the corner. Thankfully, Stella heard her because she paused, looked throught the window, and turned around to wait as Lindsey jogged up to her.

"Hey, slow down, what's the rush?" she asked, shooting Lindsey a questioning look.

"Have you seen Danny anywhere?" asked Lindsey.

"Isn't he suppose to be in the print lab?" replied Stella.

"That's what I thought, but I can't find him," responded Lindsey, putting her hands to her hips, "And I've searched the entire lab."

"Well, did you try his cell?" said Stella, crossing her arms.

"I keep getting a busy signal," replied Lindsey.

Stella frowned. It wasn't like Danny to be late to work. However, the supposed storm coming had everyone on edge and traffic had since been worse.

"He's probably stuck in traffic," she told Lindsey.

"I thought about that, but doesn't he..."

"Lindsey," interrupted Stella, "Don't you think you're taking this a little too personally."

Lindsey stopped. A look crossed her face that Stella couldn't read. It wasn't anger or annoyance, but it wasn't agreement either. Finally Lindsey let out a sigh.

"You're right," she said, "I guess I am being kind of silly. I just got this nagging feeling that something's not right."

"Well, you know what I do when I have those kind of feelings?" replied Stella.

Lindsey shot her a questioning look.

"I store'em till I need them," said Stella, "Now come on, Mac thinks he's got a lead on..."

"Hey," Flack's voice called behind them, "Either of you seen Danny?"

Both women turned to see the detective walking up to him.

"Apparantely he's stopped in traffic," said Lindsey, "Other then that, no."

"Well, do you have any idea when he'll be here?" said Flack, unable to disguise the urgency of his voice.

"No, what's wrong?" replied Stella.

Flack turned to her, his eyes dark with anger.

"Michael Carmine was just released on bail," said Flack, "And Jennifer Wyler has gone missing."


	5. Chapter 5

A.N.: Yes, I have returned. After a long break, for which I** apologize** PROFUSELY! Anyway, here's for all the people who wanted to see the "Bag Lady" again. Hope you like it.

* * *

The humming was back as brittle conciousness pulled Danny back to reality. With a muffled groan, he began to open his eyes, stopping only as the memory of his last experience hit him. Cautious this time, he cracked an eye open. Taking the lack of blinding pain as a good sign, he opened the other. Thanks to his...aquaintance, he didn't have to guess what was in front of him. His glasses still hung on his face, slightly askewed. Danny also found himself wrapped in a thin, warm blanket. 

The humming continued, coming from his left. Looking over, he saw the woman, Lucinda she had called herself, with her back turned to him. She seemed to be concentrating on something, despite her unending rocking. Moving his head slightly, and ignoring the incoming migrane, Danny tried to look over or around her, but couldn't. Suddenly, the sound of metal on concrete reverberated as he accidently knocked over a small cylinder. Clear fluid began to drain out of it.

Lucinda jumped, turning around to look at Danny. Croutching back against the corner, she resembled a frightened animal. An animal that was caught in the corner. She and Danny stared at each other

"Uh, sorry about that," Danny said softly, "Didn't mean to startle you."

He slowly reached for the can.

"I'll just pick this up, okay?" he continued, trying to keep his eyes on her face.

"No!" she shrieked, leaping at him.

"Whoah!" Danny exclaimed pulling back, "Ahh!"

The sudden moved cost him as pain shot through his skull. Lucinda glared at him, clutching the can to her chest.

"You contaminated the sample!" she exclaimed, "Are you insane! Going to kill us all."

"Sorry," Danny mumbled, unable for a sharper comback as a wave of dizziness passed over him. He saw oblivion creeping to the edges of his vision.

"Stupid grunt," muttered Lucinda insanely, backing away with the can, "Stupid, stupid boy. Human fault. Record must be made. You're lucky. Fluid contamination."

"Fluid?" Danny said, trying to draw her into conversation. He knew he had to stay awake.

Lucinda didn't seem to want conversation, however. Turning her back on Danny, she crawled the rest of the way to her corner and continued whatever she had been doing before. By shere force of will, Danny forced himself to sit up a little.

"Lucinda," he called back, "I need to get to a...a hospital."

Lucinda's mutterings paused. She turned to look at him, a strange expression on her face. It took Danny a second to realize it was sadness.

"N-no hospital," she said, "Hospitals a-are bad. Hurt," she turned and crawled over to Danny, "You're hurt."

_So glad you finally noticed, _Danny thought.

"Yeah," he replied, "And I need to get to a hospital."

Lucinda's eyes grew wide with fear.

"No!" she cried, "No, no, no...dark and bright, the hands of white."

"Wha-?" Danny began, as he started to lose his fight with oblivion. It didn't help that Lucinda had begun to push him down.

"Rest," she said, her tone suddenly authoritative, "It will help. The bombs have stopped."

"Bombs..." Danny said, beginning to drift, "There are no..."

He didn't get to finish as he finally lost his fight. For a long moment, Lucinda sat there, watching him. Almost like a mother, she carefully pulled the blanket farther up him. As she sat, she didn't notice a large shape enter the area.

Suddenly, a bit of wetness fell against her back. Whirling around, her eyes brightened.

"Max!" she exclaimed, as happy as a little girl.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mrs. Wyler, when was the last time you saw Jennifer?" Flack asked, looking the woman in her late-fourties, early-fifties right in the eyes.

"I-it was...It was just five hours ago," Mrs. Wyler replied, sniffling, "Jen was going stir crazy. Scared of Michael, scared of the constant media pressure. She just needed to get away."

"Here you go," Flack mumbled, handing her a kleenex.

Mrs. Wyler gave him an appreciative smile before burrying her face into it. Blowing slightly too loud, she pulled it back down.

"Thank you," she said, wiping her eyes and brushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, "Anyway, I called Lisa and asked her if she could take Jen out somewhere."

"This is Lisa Morgan," interrupted Flack, checking his notes.

Mrs. Wyler nodded.

"And that was the last time you saw Jennifer?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Wyler, "When they didn't come back an hour after they planned, I didn't think much of it. I mean, I thought they were having fun again. Two hours, I started to get worried. I called Jen's cell, but no one answered. I called a couple people, and someone told me they had seen Lisa's car, but that a man was driving it. I called the police immediately."

Another sniffle escaped.

"Do you think Michael could have..."

"It's best to think positively," Flack encouraged, "We've got the best people looking for her."

"Including that CSI?" asked Mrs. Wyler, "Danny, was it?"

"Yeah," replied Flack, "Yes, Mrs. Wyler, Danny's working as hard as he can to find Jennifer."

"Good," said Mrs. Wyler, sitting back with a smile, "I don't know how much I can thank him for helping Jen through this. How I could repay him."

_Me either, _Flack thought, _Especially for him leaving me out like this. Where the hell is Messer anyway?_

"Flack," Stella's call pulled him from his thoughts.

Flack looked over his shoulder to see Stella in the doorway, beckoning him over. He turned back to Mrs. Wyler.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked.

Mrs. Wyler nodded and pulled her legs up to her chest. Frowning, Flack stood up, pressing down his tie, and walked over to Stella.

"How is she?" Stella asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"About as good to be expected," replied Flack, turning back around, "How would you feel if your daughter was kidnapped by the guy who raped her?"

"We don't know if Carmine's our guy," said Stella.

Flack shot her critical look.

"But, I would be just as eager to get her home," Stella consented.

Mrs. Wyler shot a look at the CSI and detective. The light from her wide windows fell on her face, amplifying their red-rimmed quality. Flack reminded himself again why he prefered homicide.

"So, you got anything?" he asked, looking back at Stella.

"Not so much as a late e-mail," replied Stella, "You're sure Carmine sent a threatening message before he raped her."

"Yeah, that's how Danny found him," said Flack, "Had the computer lab trace it all the way back to Carmine's computer. That plus DNA did the work."

"Then, we have three options," said Stella, "Either, Lisa and Jennifer are just avoiding the rest of the world..."

"Highly unlikely."

"Or, they were both grabbed by someone outside the picture."

"Doubtful."

"Or Carmine's going off page."

"My thoughts exactly," replied Flack. Just then the phone rang.

Mrs. Wyler bolted up, paused, and cast an uncertain look in Flack's direction. Flack nodded to her, sending a signal across the hall to the audio guys set up at the kitchen table. With a shaky hand, Mrs. Wyler picked up the phone.

"H-hello," she said into the reciever. Flack glanced at the table. One of the men nodded.

"Michael!" screamed Mrs. Wyler suddenly, "Where is Jennifer?! What have you done to her? To Lisa?"

"Mrs. Wyler," Flack was at her side, taking the phone from her, "Carmine? Are you there?"

"Detective Flack!" the voice on the other end sounded suprise, "What are you doing here...there?"

"I would ask you the same thing," replied Flack, motioning for a piece of paper. Stella handed him one, a cautious expression in her eyes, "Any idea where Jennifer is?"

"No," Michael said defiantly, "Why would I?"

"I don't know...calling the house of the girl you raped, after she goes missing," taunted Flack, "If that ain't a sign of something, I don't know what is."

"I didn't rape her!" said Michael, his tone angrily.

"If you didn't, who did?" challenged Flack.

"I don't...Shit! I-I don't know," replied Michael, and Flack could hear the sound of someone knocking something down followed by a muffled curse.

"Michael, whose with you?" Flack demanded.

"No one, nobody...damn it,"Michael began to sound adgitated, "It wasn't suppose to be like this."

All sound from the other end of the line stopped.

"Michael?" Flack tried, "Be like what, Michael?"

Mrs. Wyler looked at him with worry etched in her face.

"Just...find the evidence to clear me," said Michael softly, "And tell that...tell the guy who 'found evidence against me' he needs to explain it to Jennifer."

Immediately, the sound of a cut off line sounded. Flack looked over at the table. The computer geek monitoring looked up, and shook his head no. _Damn, _Flack thought, _Just another second._

" What did he want?" Mrs. Wyler exploded, "Does he have Jennifer? Where is she?"

Flack looked at her, unable to hide the uselessness he felt.

"He neither confirmed nor denied he has Jennifer, or Lisa for that matter," he replied.

Mrs. Wyler froze.

"Oh god," she said, sinking into a chair as her knees buckled, "I thought...I prayed this was over. Oh, god."

She burried her head in her hands and began to cry. Flack walked over, placing a hand comfortingly on her shoulder.

"I promise, Mrs. Wyler," he said, "We're going to find Jennifer and bring her home safely."

The only reply he recieved was a lightening of her weeping. Looking over at Stella, he motioned towards the hallway.

"So?" she asked, when he joined her.

"We're in trouble, Stell," he said, "Big trouble."

"How big?"

"Carmine wants us to prove he didn't rape Jennifer," Flack replied, "More specifically, he wants Danny to prove it."


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N.: Yes, I have returned to you! Finally, and after a long hiatus. Please accept this humble offering as my apology. I promise I'll try to update more soon! If I don't, well (hides behind Flack) He's got a badge!

* * *

**

"Still, still," Lucinda's voice cut through, waking Danny, "Can't clean what you won't let me touch." 

Danny heard a small russtling of movement, what he thought was a whimper, and then a laugh. A high, obnoxiously cheerful laugh which made him want to shoot the next thing he saw. With a low grown, he shifted his weight and twisted onto his side. The movement made his head throb, but it dwindled quickly to just a dull ache. Cracking open his eyes, he was relieved not to feel a shattering pain.

From what he could see beneath his lashes and slightly tilted glasses, Lucinda was still in th far corner away from him. The only difference was this time she wasn't alone. Danny squinted, slowly reaching up to reposition his glasses, to make out the shape of a large, black labrador. The animal looked like it lived in hell and had come in just for a viist. It's fur was clumped and matted with dried blood. Patches of raw scrapes dotted all for of his legs and one side. One ear was notched by an old scar and the thing looked about half starved.

Despite its ragged appearance, however, the dog seemed to respond well to Lucinda. It sat patiently as the young woman cleaned and dressed it's wounds. It seemed odder to Danny, though, that Lucinda seemed so patient around it. He took the moment to get reaquainted with his surroundings. It looked as though the entire room was a make-shift tent. A wall of dark material's covered everything, but there was no discernable door. The wall against him was cool granite. Small holes gave the area a little light. The floor was covered by all manner of trash.

"No use with interrogation techniques, I take it," she said, calmly holding a conversation with the dog, "I could have told them that!"

The dog's response was to simply look at her. She continued speaking, periodically dipping the rag in a small bowl. It took a second for Danny to realize it was full of liquid. Suddenly, he became aware of just how thirsty he was. He let out a slight cough.

Immediately, both Lucinda and dog's head turned to him. The dog let out a low warning growl, stepping towards him. Danny pulled back on instinct earning a reprimand from stiff body.

"Max," Lucinda called. She moved to the dog, gently patting its head.

"No condition yet. Give it time," she said, looking pointedly at Danny, "Will improve."

Danny looked up at her, biting his lip to keep from speaking. He didn't want or especially need an outburst like last time. Slowly he relaxed, feeling the relief flood through his now aching back. The dog must have sensed the relief, because before Danny could do anything, it had approached and began licking his face.

"Gagh!" exclaimed Danny, scrunching at the contact and the pain in his head at the loud noise, "Okay, down boy. Down! How do you make him stop?"

"Stop?" replied Lucinda, suprised, "Max is greeting you in his native way. He likes you. Only respectful to return the greeting. In the same way."

Danny cranned his neck back, holding out his hands to protect himself from the dog's assult. He shot Lucinda a look that said "You've got to be kidding me."

"No!" he exclaimed, "Hell no!"

Lucinda tilted her head, and to Danny's relief, merely sighed. Crawling over, she leaned and whispered into Max's ear. The dog let out an aggravatingly loud bark, and walked to the far corner. Danny realized then that there was a small amount of matting there. Mainly paper and stray cloth. The dog circled around its "Bed" a few times and layed down. It looked out at Lucinda and Danny with a watchful eye.

Lucinda waited for Max to sit, before looking at Danny. The poor boy was so confused. She hoped the remaining workable technology she had could help him. _The old ones will pay if he remains hurt,_ she thought, _I will hunt their agent down myself._

Slowly, she approached Danny. Reaching over, she picked up one of the tin cans near him. Danny saw what he thought might be water slosh out of it as she picked it up. Pulling out a thin strip of cloth from her shirt pocket, she dipped it into the water. Ringing out the excess liquid in the can, she reached out towards Danny.

The CSI pulled back again, managing to prop himself up not caring how much it hurt. Or, for that matter, whether he scared Lucinda or not.

"What do you think your doing?" he demanded.

"Cleaning," replied Lucinda, looking at him as though he had asked if the sky was purple not blue.

"Well, I don't think it's gonna help!" Danny exclaimed, angrier then he had meant to sound. His head pounded again.

Lucinda recoiled from the volume, but did not back away. She fixed Danny with a sad expression. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Danny let out a sigh. The headache was not helping his mood.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said, "Look, if you just let me out. I'll get to the..." he stopped at the word hospital, "I'll get out of here. And I won't, uh, I won't tell where your hiding. Okay?"

He leaned his head down a little to look in Lucinda's eyes. He was suprised to see the brown orbs full of tears. _Great, Messer, _he thought, _You made the crazy cry. What is that, two girls this week? You're really going for a record here._

"I promise," he added as consolitory as he could manage.

Lucinda looked up at him. Tears streaked down her face, making her look younger. To Danny's suprise, he found himself astounded at how young she appeared to be. Even without the tears, the young woman couldn't be much older then twenty-two. He would even put her age close to nineteen, especially with the tears. He also had a better look at her thanks to the light and the diminishment of some of the pain.

The young woman was skinny, which was unsuprising, though the rags she wore blew it far out of proportions. Her skin was rather pale, which Danny realized was probably from staying in her makeshift tent and venturing out at night. She had dark black hair, dulled and knotted from unwashing. Her face was pinched, but oddly beautiful in a fragile glass sort of way. Under better conditions, he thought she would have stood a good chance of leading a great life. _So how'd she end up like this? _part of him wondered.

Lucinda took in a shaky breathe, and smiled. Something about the smile made Danny uncomfortable.

"Okay," she said, "Rest first though?"

Danny stared at her stunned.

"What?" he said.

"If you must leave, we will let you. Simple volunteer soldier. Can't make you stay. But rest first. Please?"

Her smile became hopefull.

"So you're just gonna let me go?" said Danny.

Lucinda nodded.

"Provided you rest, first," she said.

"Actually," replied Danny, "I think I just better..."

Max growled at his movement making Danny stop.

"Just better rest," said Danny, hiding his disappointment.

"Alright," said Lucinda, "Just lay back."

She waited until Danny complied, shooting the dog a sour look on the way down. Pulling the blanket up on him, her crazy smile returned.

"Wait here," she said, "Rest. I'll find food."

Before Danny could say anything, she was on her feet and at the tent's edge. Pulling up the bottom, she allowed vast amounts of sunlight to enter the room. Danny let out a pained grunt, shielding his eyes. Just as soon, the light vanished. Testily opening them again, Danny looked around. Lucinda was gone but the dog, Max, remained looking at him with dark beady eyes. Danny moved to pull the blanket down.

"Grrr," the low rumble came from the dog at the movement.

Danny stopped. The dog was obviously a tough fighter, judging from the scaring all over it. It would be stupid, not to mention suicidal to piss it off. Angrily, Danny shifted back, glaring at the dog.

"Alright, mutt, alright," he commented, "I'm not moving. See?"

The dog let out a bored sniff. Danny's eyes narrowed and the pair continued giving each other a "What are you looking at"-glare.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N.: (pokes head off) Oh, um, hi. (ducks quickly behind safety glass)

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**

"Well, his voicemail is working," said Stella lowering her cell phone, "Which means his phone is off but Lindsey said he hasn't come in yet."

"I'm only getting an answering machine," replied Flack, shutting his own phone. His face was set in the unreadable expression he used to start an interrogation as he looked at her, "I'm not liking the look of this, Stell."

"Neither do I," said Stella, biting her lip. She glanced along either side of the block, as if expecting Danny to walk up past the police cars. When he didn't, she looked back at Flack and added, "Can you put out an APB on his..."

"No good," replied Flack, "He said he had car trouble yesterday. Walked into work. That was my first thought, though."

Stella frowned. Flack's tone had become sharper. It was obvious to anyone the detective was worried. She didn't blame him. Over the past couple years, Danny had grown a habit of attracting trouble, whether on his own or by uncontrollable circumstances. It wasn't hard for her to imagine something happening to him. Glancing down at her phone, she redialed Lindsey's number.

* * *

_It was cold. Colder then it should be, but then everything seemed more intense with the Old Ones so close_. Lucinda gazed back at her make-shift camp. The reflexive shielding remained in place at the appropriate pattern. Lucinda let out a sigh. Many good men had died to make this place safe and just as many had been transformed. Her fallen angel's mind would at least be protected. But it would be little use if his physical body was further damaged. The Old Ones had already shown a particular interest in this one. She had never seen one of their personal guards dispatched to annihilate one.

A small shudder ran through her. The image of the angel pressed against the wall assaulted her. The crude club like weapon of the personal guard descended towards his head, promising a slow death if she hadn't been there. _No, no, _she thought, closing her eyes_, Don't think about it. Don't remember. _She covered her face with the her hands, trying to block out the memory and a thousand more like it. She would never forgive the Old Ones for this advancement.

Shaking her head, she pulled her hands back down to her side. It was no good thinking over what couldn't be changed. She still had to protect the fallen one. Turning left, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of thick gloves. In front of her the first few bars of her defense grid glittered in the afternoon light. A mesh of long, barbed wire strands stretched out the length of the camp, held up by four wood poles. Bits of sharpened tin and glass hung tied by string or stuck on the barbs themselves. Putting on the gloves, she squated and reached out to push against the first strand. A small smile crossed her face as the taunt wire offered resistance.

Standing up, she carefully stepped over the wire, making sure to step only in the dirt patches. Shredded pieces of cloth littered the ground beneath the wire. She knew from experience agents of the Old Ones had horrible vision. It was nearly impossible for them to destinguish between the color of the cloth and dirt, a defensive advantage. Stepping over the last wire, she let out a satisfied sigh. The angel would be safe until she came back.

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A.N. So, anyway, yes, I'm back. Sorry for the short chapter, but all the pieces needed to be brought together. Hopefully, I'll be able to update the next chapter soon. So, so sorry for not being back.


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